


Prey to the Gods

by Em_press



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Demigods, M/M, My First Fanfic, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_press/pseuds/Em_press
Summary: Laurent/Damen but as demigods in the world of Percy Jackson. Other Captive Prince characters will feature as well.





	1. Chapter 1

Mood: Run Boy Run by Woodkid

“Chin up,” the stylist commanded for probably the twelfth time. Laurent rolled his eyes at the mirror, earning a dismissive sniff from the hairdresser. The calming sound of drizzle on the waterproof canvas tent had recently stopped and Laurent was becoming more impatient by the second. It had been at least two hours in the chair as make-up, nail and whatever beautification experts his uncle hired worked towards another elaborate look. Nothing natural, not ever. Only some elite level that no one could achieve in a five minute morning. Even for the luxury activewear he was modeling today at the end of a prominent hiking trail. 

It really wasn’t what average people should wear hiking. The boots alone were worth over a thousand dollars, highlighted by tailored khaki pants rolled up to his ankles. A classic red and navy thin flannel shirt was tucked in on his right but hanging over a leather belt on his left. The main event was the outerwear: a rich, goatskin, brown leather jacket with shearling lining. 

“If you use any more hairspray I’ll have a helmet instead of a hairdo.” Laurent reached up to validate that his hair was overly saturated, only to have his hand slapped away. The teen stiffened and stood. “How dare you‒” 

Suddenly a hand had tightened over his shoulder, choking off his words. A chill went down Laurent’s spine as he yearned to pull away. How could such a substantial man approach so silently? Laurent cursed himself silently for putting the man out of his thoughts after the dressing was finished earlier.

“Ah, Claude, you’ve performed magic yet again! Please forgive my nephew’s rudeness, he does not have an eye for your artistry.” Laurent turned his head and impassive gaze toward his uncle, whose thumb had begun to stroke his shoulder blade back and forth. It was a bare whisper of a touch through all of the layers, but a touch all the same. The stylist managed a curt smile and nod before unceremoniously dumping all of his product off of the counter and into a drab, black Hugo Boss leather work bag and strutting out of the tent. 

“That’s the fourth hairdresser you’ve drove off this month, boy.” The grip on Laurent’s shoulder tightened before his uncle spun him around to face him. “It’s almost like you want to be punished.” He ran a finger across Laurent’s cheek, smirking at the shiver that ran through Laurent and into his steely vise. 

“Well, then maybe you should hire people with thicker skin,” Laurent replied icily, tugging away. A feeling to bow his head and listen wriggled at the back of his mind, at odds with the fresh air and wilderness just outside the tent.

Surprisingly, his uncle relinquished his shoulder but subsequently caught the boy’s wrist. “I have allowed you to be on set instead of at the studio, the least you could do is show a little gratitude.” Pulling a small cologne bottle out of his suit pocket, his uncle was poised to douse Laurent with a woodsy essence. It seemed useless, as Laurent felt like his pores were always drowning in that smell. Yet he drew closer to his uncle, that hand still clutching his wrist, until a strong draft of wind burst through the tent flap. The strong scent of Douglas fir stood in sharp relief to the false aroma of a “nature” perfume. 

“I practically sweat that stuff, stop smothering me,” the teen said, seizing the opportunity to snatch his wrist away and walk out of the tent. He emerged into a throng of magazine and photography assistants in a constant flurry of activity. There were a few tents dotting the incline to Quarry Rock, one with food, another with equipment and so on. Mostly everyone was still complaining about the hike but Laurent had enjoyed the freedom and multiple scenic waterfalls on the way up. One of his uncle’s hired help passed him a double dirty chai latte before herding him over to lead photographer at the edge of the cliff who was clucking over some notes. The stunning view of the little town of Deep Cove and dense forests on the other side of the fjord seemed to enrapture only Laurent. A couple ladies began fussing over the activewear Laurent was modeling, pinning it to his shape and smoothing away wrinkles. It was a deceitful business in Laurent’s opinion but no one ever asked him. 

“Shall we, then?” Laurent asked impatiently, tapping his Moncler hiking boots. He spared a quick nervous glance back at his tent‒his uncle would never interrupt a shoot so he needed it started, stat. He wasn’t sure why he was so wary, so...alert.

“Ready,” one of the women with pins confirmed, as if Laurent had never uttered a word. 

The photographer consulted his tablet, poking through notes with a stylus. He looked up, past Laurent, pointing to the spot rimmed by reflectors. “Stand there. I’m going for a ‘scenic vista? I am the scenic vista’ aesthetic. Then shots by some trees,” the photographer mumbled, more to his tablet than to his assistants and Laurent. The boy raised an eyebrow in inquiry but was ushered to his position by helpers who understood the photographer’s terse statements. They took his latte, adjusted the sweep of his hair and undid one of the buttons on his flannel shirt before stepping back behind the barrier of equipment. 

Laurent could see his uncle lumbering up the rocks between the tent and the photoshoot, a frown creasing his face. His pulse quickened, making it difficult to go blank and switch to the facade that could cater to the commands from behind the camera. Why was uncle pushing forward, maneuvering through the barricade of technicians and tripods?

A jarring screech disrupted Laurent’s thoughts, disrupted the entire circus of people, as two large shadows swooped over them. At first they appeared to be eagles, or perhaps that only occurred to him since the others were shouting about eagles. As his eyes found the creatures once more he sucked in a breath‒their heads were that of women but the rest of them was bird, with sharp talons to boot. H-Harpy? Laurent took a shaky step back but his foot found only air at the edge of the cliff. His heart pounded and he locked eyes with his uncle who was racing towards him as he fell backwards off the cliff.

\- ⥈ -

Damianos climbed swiftly up the Douglas Fir, ignoring the voice from down below that insisted he stop. He was tired of following his friend and wanted more immediate results. Besides, a good climb would loosen him up in case a battle was on the horizon. 

“Come down, you gods damned oaf! I have the scent, it’s just being muddled somehow!”

“Nikandros, I don’t know how to tell you that all of your chiding turns into an incongruous moan to me! Stop being such a nanny goat!” Damen called down, grinning as obscenities were shouted back up at him. He had been traveling with the satyr for years now, helping young demigods to Camp Half-Blood. Damen continued to the top, his scabbard swatting his thigh, until he looked out over a sea of firs and hemlock. Hills, trees and birds...hills, trees and birds. With nothing interesting claiming his attention, Damen grunted and began climbing‒or rather strategic falling‒down the tree. 

“If you fall and crush me I’ll turn into a poison ivy patch that sprouts up in any bed you occupy,” Nikandros threatened. He stomped around impatiently, accidentally munching on their map. Finally Damen hopped down the last twenty feet and landed rather ungracefully on his rear when his feet wouldn’t hold him. 

“That’s what you deserve.”

“It looks so easy in movies,” Damen protested, wiping dead foliage off of his pants. It didn’t help much since they’d been in the forest for about three days so even his orange camp shirt was streaked with mud. He checked his sword at his hip and the one strapped to his back before holding up his hands in defeat to the satyr. ‘I got nothing. Can’t see anything except rainforest for miles.”

“Whatever we’re looking for, it’s here,” Nikandros walked over to the nearest fir and put a hand on it, “I can’t sense any dryads even though we’re surrounded by nature. There’s a faint scent of monster to this place.” 

“Maybe they’re wary because they know you’re thirsty for some tree,” Damen chuckled.

“Maybe you’re projecting,” Nik rebutted, rolling his eyes. 

A sharp shriek pierced the forest and the two sprinted in its direction. Damen drew his sword as he ran, his determined face glinting in the celestial bronze. Nikandros must have shed his human shoes since he was several feet ahead of Damen and gaining ground. The satyr plowed through a blackberry bush and his demigod companion leapt over it, missing the hand that attempted to stop him from going straight into the fjord. Luckily it hadn’t been a sheer cliff and Damen struggled back up onto the shore, dripping wet. Nik was pointing up in the other direction and Damen turned to look.

Across the fjord was an actual rocky outcropping that looked like a fairground with all the white tents. Nikandros and Damen scanned the scene with their sharpened eyesight. 

“Harpies,” Damen growled at the monsters circling the cliff. A human figure stumbled off the side and the harpies swooped in, grabbing it by its arms. Nikandros pulled Damen back into the tree line as the harpies flew in their direction. 

“They should smell us. Why are they flying this way?” Damen asked.

“That boy they’re carrying, his smell is wrong.” Nikandros held his face to the sky, closing his eyes. “It’s a demigod.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since it took ten million years to go through the invitation process, I actually have a few chapters saved up! Mostly for days like yesterday when it took two hours just to write a four lined prophecy (sorry folks, not in this chapter). Thanks so much for the first day love, it's the rocket fuel to my writing.

Mood: Silver Tongue by James and the Wild Spirit

“I told you it was a demigod, you old crone,” one of the harpies trilled, shifting Laurent’s right arm in her talons.

“Doesn’t smell like one from far away! Your nose has led us astray far too many times, how could I have known?”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK,” Laurent interrupted, squirming in their grasp and flailing his legs. 

“Squirmy little mortal, eh?”

“Why’d it have to be an older one? The younger ones are much more docile.”

“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING? HOW COULD YOU SMELL ME WHEN YOU BOTH SMELL LIKE LITERAL SHIT,” Laurent continued, attempting to pump his arms up and down at different intervals. 

“My dear, did you hear what this demigod snack said? She ordered us to bring it unharmed but I think this one deserves to have his mouth washed out!” 

“Oh yes, hun, I quite agree. One...twooooo...threeeeee~!” Both harpies let go of their payload and cackled as Laurent fell into the fjord. Then one burst into a shower of dust as Nikandros’s arrow found its mark. Damen had already begun swimming toward the location of Laurent’s fall, hoping that the demigod knew how to swim.

“Sissssster! Oh you nasty satyr! I can’t carry him by myself!” the remaining harpy cried, gaining altitude to avoid the range of Nikandros’ arrows. She surveyed the scene a final time and flew south. 

Damen faltered and began to tread water, having lost Laurent’s direction with the abatement of the ripples. Well shit.

Then a sputtering, splashing demigod emerged from the water, panting and muttering curses in between. Damen paddled over and was surprised when Laurent actively swam away from him and towards the shore.

“Hey kid, I’m trying to help!” Damen swam after him, catching up in only a few strokes but hanging back just in case. 

Laurent found purchase on the pebbly beach and hauled himself out, ignoring the hand that was offered to him from a THING WITH HOOVES STICKING OUT OF ITS PANTS. He stood, his clothes streaming water, and glared imperiously at Nikandros and a very soggy Damen. His lips were pursed as he regarded the two, then he glanced up at the faint outline of figures looking down from Quarry Rock and strode into the forest. 

“Hey, hey, I know this can be a bit overwhelming but..”

“Damen, leave this to an actual protector. I got this,” Nikandros said, pushing Damen aside and following Laurent into the woods. “Would you please slow down and talk to us? Are you on a quest? Is it just you or do you have a party you were snatched from…?

Nikandros came to a halt as Laurent whirled around and came striding up to him and Damen. 

“I have no idea what the hell you are. I have no idea what the hell seized me with talons and had the head of a woman. I’m just going to get the fuck out of here and carry on with my life,” Laurent said before turning around again. 

Damen reached for Laurent’s wrist, saying, “You need to calm‒”

“DON’T PRESUME THAT YOU CAN TOUCH ME,” Laurent spat, holding his wrist with his other hand against his chest. 

“Okay kid, we just saved you from a bunch of harpies and clearly the adrenaline in your system isn’t helping. How about we approach this like adults and talk this through,” Nikandros said through gritted teeth. Laurent huffed but stopped, taking the opportunity to wring out his shirt. His makeup as well as his hairspray had been washed away by the lake and his hair hung limply past his shoulders. But somehow it seemed to work.

Damen elbowed Nikandros, whispering, “He looks expensive.”

“Don’t forget a raging prima donna,” Nikandros muttered, strapping his bow to his back. “So are you on a quest?”

“No, I’m not in some fantasy novel. Here’s how this is going to work. You two shall escort me to the nearest five star hotel and promptly disappear from my life forever.”

“Actually we are going to escort you to Camp Half-Blood. More monsters will be on your trail since they are attracted to your demigod scent. I’m Nikandros and this is Damianos” Nikandros, ever the voice of reason, tried to inform Laurent. 

“Yeah, it’s amazing you’re so old. Oh, and you can call me Damen,” Damen stated, letting his eyes wander over Laurent. He summoned up a beaming smile that was immediately shot down by the icy waves of displeasure emanating from the new demigod. 

“It’s that scent on him, blends him in with the environment. We should get going before it fades too much.”

Laurent was a little too dumbfounded by the whole situation to give Damen a proper scolding for calling him old. “Does your ‘come with me if you want to live’ speech usually work? I’m not going anywhere with you.” He turned in what he assumed was the south direction and started walking again. 

“Now listen here, sweetheart. The only reason those monsters would target you is if you’re a demigod. That means that one of your folks is a Greek god. Now we bring you back to camp, train you up some, then you can take care of monsters all by yourself. Once again, hi, I’m Damen, and your name is?” Damen said, pleased that Nikandros had not interrupted and he’d been able to string along some coherent sentences while looking at this beautiful man. He unsheathed one of his swords, flipping it and catching it by its hilt.

Having paused once again, Laurent regarded the muscular, confident lout and the frowning, irritable satyr. It seemed difficult to shake them off and he did need someone to guide him back to civilization. Any direction away from Quarry Rock, preferably. “Laurent. Which way then?” he said nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at the two.

Nikandros accidentally let out a nervous bleat.

“Did you eat the map again? You do that every mission!” Damen groaned, kicking at a fallen tree. 

“Ugh, just get me to a road, I’ll do the rest,” Laurent rolled his eyes and placed an imperious hand on his hip. Nikandros sniffed the air and started walking, leaving Damen and Laurent to follow him. Damen kept sneaking glances at the haughty boy, both impressed and annoyed at his demeanor. Eventually they encountered a trail that led them to a picnic area. Nik stopped and looked expectantly at Laurent.

Laurent scanned both the picnic area and the parking lot. Now who could be the owner of the white Porsche Cayenne? He targeted a rather well dressed couple having a picnic near the water and strode confidently towards them. Nikandros and Damen shared a look before following. Laurent ran a hand through his hair and smoothed the front of his trousers, which were surprisingly dry compared to Damen’s. 

“Which car is yours?” Laurent asked, startling the couple. They turned to look at him and Damen froze, expecting to get told off by these strangers. 

“The Porsche,” the woman answered, her partner nodding in agreement. 

“Excellent. You will drive us to the airport now. Come on then, pack up,” Laurent commanded, shooing the couple with his hands. The couple hastened to comply, probably destroying their sandwiches in the process. Damen stared incredulously at Laurent then turned his wide eyed look to Nik, who was shaking his head in disbelief. 

“If he is who I think he is, I’m buying you a chastity belt,” Nik grumbled after catching Damen’s eager glance at Laurent. Laurent ended up shotgun next to the boyfriend, Damen was in the middle with the girlfriend and Nikandros was scrunched in the back, chewing on an empty plastic water bottle. It took about an hour to reach YVR International Airport, giving Laurent time to snooze. He did have quite the traumatic morning.

Damen had the pleasure of giving Laurent a little poke when they were going over the Fraser River, earning him a bleary eyed glare. Laurent directed the boyfriend to the private terminals, telling them to forget the detour to the airport once the trio was out of the car. He pointed at the Starbucks as they went inside the terminal, “Double dirty chai latte, 1 Sugar in the Raw. Put in Splenda and I will pour my latte on your head.” Nikandros raised an eyebrow at Damen who shrugged and followed the order. 

“Ah sir, what flight are you here for? The Gallipeau party perhaps?” the front desk man asked, consulting his computer screen. 

“Yes, but you see our itinerary has changed,” Laurent paused, looking at Nikandros. Why was he going all in with these two? With no guarantees to the outcome? It was risky, much more risky than anything he’d ever done. But it would get him away, hopefully far away.

“MacArthur Airport, we decided, right?” Nikandros supplied. Laurent was surprised. New York? That was hardly inconspicuous. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem since your original destination was JFK. I will inform the pilot. If you two would please follow me,” the front desk attendant said, smiling. 

Damen caught up with a carrier loaded with their respective coffee orders. The Cessna was all ready to go and Laurent confidently strode up the stairs, picking out a prime seat for himself. Damen took a few seconds to take in the fact that he was in a private jet before settling in behind Laurent. He offered Nik his Americano once he was seated next to Damen. Nikandros immediately took off the lid and began eating it, while Laurent informed the pilot that he could take off. 

“What sugary concoction did you choose this time?” Nikandros asked Damen, putting the recyclable carrier on his lap for an after coffee snack. 

“A white chocolate mocha,” Damen replied sheepishly. He took a sip as the pilot maneuvered the jet onto the runway. Luckily there weren’t any other planes in line so their take off was quick. After gaining proper flying altitude, Laurent turned in his seat to face Damen and Nik. 

“Tell me about your gods.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dropping off a chapter before I go into study seclusion for my composites final on Saturday (online masters for that #corporatelife...have y'all watched Aggretsuko? I am Fenneko IRL. For those of you still in school, Aggretsuko is so accurate and I wish I could shield you all from it forever). Also got a wedding so I'll probably be posting chapter 4 on Sunday (it's my fav so far) so something to look forward to this weekend.

Mood: It’s Hard to Be Religious When Certain People Are Never Incinerated By Bolts Of Lightning by Mayday Parade

Damen and Nikandros swapped the role of storyteller a couple of times until they finished the story with how the gods had moved with Western Civilization and ended up in North America. Laurent regarded them thoughtfully before turning to Damen.

“So whose spawn are you then?”

“Son of Ares,” Damen said proudly, earning a derisive laugh from Laurent.

“Yes, war is quite a thing to be proud of, eh?”

“It’s not just war! It’s strategy, it’s honor, it’s athleticism.” Damen argued. Laurent raised an eyebrow and settled back into his seat.

Laurent eventually drifted off to sleep, probably tired from whatever he had done to that nice Canadian couple and the private jet host. Even Damen took a nap, after having a lengthy discussion with Nik about the merits of Stygian iron weapons. The satyr was worried that his hunch about Laurent may be incorrect and Zeus may blast them out of the sky, but they received the “please prepare for landing” notification from the pilot after five peaceful hours. 

Laurent awoke with a start, confused by the pilot’s voice over the intercom. He glanced at Damen, who gave him a sleepy smile, and at Nikandros...well more at Nikandros’s cloven hooves. So it wasn’t a dream and things felt far more real than they usually did. 

“How many of there are you?” Laurent asked, inspecting his nails as if this information was worth nothing. 

“Us demigods or us...people and creatures affected by the fact that the gods exist?” Damen furrowed his brow, thinking. Nikandros would probably know a more accurate number but by the stubborn set of his mouth, the information wasn’t going to be forthcoming. 

“Oh no, just at camp. How can I be sure that I won’t get nabbed by a monster in the middle of the night?” Laurent looked up through his lashes at Damen, who was flushing ever so slightly. 

“There’s a barrier. And a dragon.” Nikandros said, ending the conversation as the plane pitched forward into its descent. Laurent turned forwards as his lip moved unconsciously into a pout. 

The landing was about as average as any, until a huge force slammed radially into the fuselage and the plane spun wildly on the runway. Laurent’s perfectly manicured nails dug into the armrests while Damen already had a sword out and was attempting to release his seatbelt. The momentum of the plane burned multiple donuts of skid-marks into the tarmac as the pilot put a lead foot on the brakes. Just as the plane stilled there were harsh clawing sounds on the passenger door. Damen and Nik shared a glance before the satyr opened the hatch, allowing Damen to plow right into the angry monster outside, sword raised.

“Griffin!” Damen hollered, excitement in his voice. Nikandros pushed a hysterical pilot back into the cockpit and shut the door, separating it from the cabin. The griffin flapped its wings and clawed at Damen, who deflected its talons but was having a hard time striking the creature. The griffin crowded the door, making it difficult for Damen and Nikandros to work together.

“Play something?” Damen grunted as he swung his blade. Blood dripped from multiple gouges in his arms but he stood like a wall to prevent the griffin from coming inside. Nikandros sheathed the arrow he was holding and pulled out panpipes. The satyr played a tune that sounded exactly like Paparazzi by Lady Gaga and it took several verses to get the griffin to back up a little. Laughing, Damen jumped onto the runway and switched to the broadsword on his back. 

Laurent sat frozen for another minute, his heart thumping, until he felt confident enough to go over the the cargo door. It was simple enough to open and he spared a glance at the open passenger door before hopping out and hiding behind the tail of the plane to survey his escape options. He’d have to run a few hundred yards to make it to the tree line but the monster was well distracted. Obviously the other two hadn’t trusted him enough to give him a weapon (not that he would have helped them right now anyway) so he had no qualms with darting in the other direction. 

Damen and Nikandros had been exchanging blows with the griffin with no progress to show for their effort. Shrieking, the griffin suddenly pumped its wings, bringing it out of range of the sweep of Damen’s sword. It flew over the plane as Damen turned to see Laurent booking it towards the trees. 

“Gods damn him,” Nikandros muttered before starting into a sprint. Damen shared the sentiment but was rather confused about the shift of focus by the griffin. 

“Should’ve given him a dagger or something.”

“Just because you forgot doesn’t mean I did,” Nik replied while shooting an arrow at the griffin. The griffin dipped slightly as the arrow embedded itself into its wing but it was a momentary falter. 

Laurent could feel the griffin coming—the shrieking was also an indicator— and put on a burst of speed. This time he was picked up by the back of his jacket and knocked against the tarmac as another arrow dug into the griffin’s wing. A sharp rock cut his cheek as the left side of his face dragged against the asphalt. Then his feet were lifting off the ground and he struggled to slip his arms out of his sleeves.

“Jeez, you’re a natural for the ‘damsel in distress’ role!” Damen grinned. He had pulled a few daggers out of his boot and was trying to get one to stick instead of glancing off the griffin’s wings. 

Gritting his teeth in indignation at that silly trope, Laurent finally extricated himself from his jacket and dropped about thirty feet to the ground. For some reason he knew how to hold himself for the impact and then gracefully roll to his feet, flipping his hair and raising his eyebrows at Damen. Who knew someone could be so hot with half of their face skinned?

Damen shut his gaping mouth and made a commendable effort to refocus on the griffin, whose right wing had taken a lot of damage. It landed heavily but reared up on its back legs, letting out another angry squawk. Another of Nik’s arrow’s whizzed past the griffin’s beak, distracting it, as Damen rushed in and swiped at the griffin’s side. As the griffin disintegrated into dust, leaving an intact feather on the pile, Damen sheathed his sword and sat with a sigh. 

“Where’s your usual battle fever?” Nikandros asked, handing Damen a little golden square. Damen popped it into his mouth and looked expectantly between Nik and Laurent. The satyr rolled his eyes—of course he was eventually going to give him some—and presented a square to Laurent.

“It’s ambrosia. Go slow, it heals but it can also make you sick if you eat too much.”

Since Damen had one and wasn’t keeling over, Laurent nibbled the edge. It tasted like a fresh lemon bar, exactly like the ones...he dropped the remaining chunk on the ground. The burn in his cheek began to ebb and Damen’s arms had stopped dripping blood like a leaky faucet. 

Nikandros regarded Laurent warily. He couldn’t exactly be mad at him for running away since Laurent didn’t have a weapon, but this was one annoying demigod. He also couldn’t be sure if Laurent was just going to the tree line to wait until the fight was over or to disappear completely. 

“Okay, I’m good, let’s go,” Damen interrupted the satyr’s thoughts. 

“I can’t get us another car,” Laurent said, lightly probing his cheek. There were bits of asphalt that he was able to dislodge with a stroke and he grimaced at the touch. 

“We’re pretty close so I can probably…” Damen whistled a few times, with different lengths and inflections. He looked expectantly up at the sky as Nikandros groaned. Three pegasi were flying towards them and Laurent let out his own impressed whistle.

“You do realize it’s super awkward for a satyr to be riding a pegasus, right?” Nikandros said as the pegasi landed and trotted up to the trio. Damen just smiled and stroked the nose of a beautiful white pegasus dappled with grey. He led it over to Laurent and beckoned for him to mount up.

“This is Francis, don’t dig your heels in too much, he bites,” Damen said, by way of introduction. 

“Please, I’ve ridden before,” Laurent scoffed, ignoring Damen’s outstretched arm. He efficiently mounted the horse and smirked at Damen, who just smiled calmly back before mounting another pegasus. Nikandros had a harder time and his pegasus was obviously exasperated. Finally they were able to take flight and turn eastward. 

The Long Island Sound stretched out around them and Damen saw Laurent close his eyes and turn his face contentedly to the wind. It wasn’t a long jaunt and they soon approached Half-Blood Hill, distinguishable by the tall pine with a golden sheepskin hanging over a branch, a dragon curled about its base. Even Laurent forgot his manners for a moment and gaped at the creature. It glanced at the pegasi lazily, exhaling a breath of smoke. 

They crested the hill and the camp shone in the afternoon light. 

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.” Damen said, turning to take in the new demigod’s reaction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have in my stores but I'll try to work on chapter 5 today. Hopefully y'all don't get too mad with me about Laurent's godly parent unveiling!! Just know that it goes quite well with his personality and it helps a big plot point later on. Thanks for readin'!

Mood: What About Us by P!nk

Damen pointed out some of the main landmarks like the Big House, the arena, and the cabins that housed the campers by godly parent before the pegasi touched down at the stables. 

“You two go along, I have to give my report to the Council of Cloven Elders.” Nikandros said, waving Laurent and Damen off. Laurent rolled his eyes, too stubborn to ask who they were and suspicious about what was being reported.

“Sounds good Nik, see you at dinner!” Damen replied amiably. He walked in the direction of the arena but Laurent was already heading towards the cabins. 

“Hey Damen! Who’d you bring us? Or are you just visiting with your boyfriend?” a twelve year old girl asked, a dagger in one hand and a rag reeking of polish in the other. 

“Oh Chloe he’s not...he’s the new recruit!” Damen recovered, smiling at the girl. Luckily Laurent had been inspecting the other cabins and was now taking in the angry, red-barbed bunker that was the Ares cabin. 

“Well this explains your lack of taste,” Laurent said, turning back to Damen. Kids were running around everywhere, probably in between camp activities. A couple older teens came up behind Damen, some from the Ares cabin with camp shirt sleeves torn off and decked out in ammo and some from the Hermes cabin with a motley assortment of clothes like they raided a Goodwill. 

“Nice toy you have here, Damianos,” one of the Ares boys smirked at Laurent, giving Damen a nudge. 

“Nice toy you have there,” Laurent said, gesturing to the boy’s pants, “Does it come in adult sizes?”

The teen surged forward, grabbing a sword at his side as his friends burst into laughter. Damen put himself in between Laurent and the son of Ares. 

“Don’t try it Erick. I’ll put you on your ass just like last time.”

“You might want to follow your pet,” Erick said, turning back to his friends like Damen wasn’t worth his time. 

Laurent had already become disinterested in the conversation and wandered away. The big house in the distance intrigued him far more than the stables and training areas they had flown over. As he drew closer; the horse he thought was on the porch ducked under the awning to reveal a human from the torso up. The centaur looked up from his scroll and watched as Damen and Laurent came over.

“Ah Damen, so nice of you to bring over another demigod! I’m Chiron, the camp director. I’ve trained many heroes over my centuries, it’s good to meet you…?” The centaur smiled at Laurent.

“Laurent,” the demigod replied, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you know your godly parent? Most of the campers are claimed by the time they’re thirteen but the gods can still be forgetful.”

“No.”

“Being at camp helps, of course, there’s no need to worry. Has Damen given you a tour?” Chiron asked politely.

“We’ve just been to the stables and the cabins. I think we’ll do a round before heading over to the dining pavilion,” Damen said. 

“I’ll see you boys there, then. Watch the climbing wall, it’s been spewing more lava than usual.”

It took a couple hours to go through all of the different activities and places. By the end of the tour Laurent was pretty sure that all of these people were crazy for wanting to hack each other up and then sing songs around a campfire. Damen led him to the dining hall and indicated that he needed to sit with the Hermes cabin since he was unclaimed. They watched as kids threw a portion of their dinner into the fire as an offering to the gods, a practice that Laurent did not partake in. 

Laurent stared at the food on his plate, uncomfortable about how close everyone was sitting. They exchanged banter and playful shoves around him, clearly camaraderie that he had never experienced and did not wish to experience. The warm spring evening helped create a sort of blanket on the whole gathering, the scent of strawberries wafting up from the fields. 

Then there was another aroma twining through the tables, a heady perfume of floral notes. There were distinct scents of jasmine, plumeria, gardenia, lavender and a multitude of others, combining and having their time to shine all at once. Rose petals shimmered into being in this perfumed wind, finding their target and swirling into a vortex around him. The contents of his plate disappeared, replaced by a golden apple. Although the apple bore an inscription, the wind whispered it aloud for all to hear, “For the fairest.” 

Laurent stood, shaking, as all eyes were on him. His activewear has been replaced by an off white exomis, a chiton that was pinned only at the left shoulder by an elaborate rose engraved fibula and finished above the knee. Gold encircled his neck and wrists and Damen swore that his hair was longer. “This is a sick fucking joke,” Laurent spat, grabbing the apple. He crossed to the center of the pavilion to the bonfire, petals still trailing after him, and threw the apple into the flames. The petals vanished as Laurent strode out of the dining pavilion. 

It was probably the longest anyone had managed to silence all of the campers at once. The floodgates opened after the first word was spoken and the regular dinner volume rose to a great clamor of voices. The Aphrodite table was still stunned (and generally offended, one of Laurent’s many talents) and one girl began sobbing about how lackluster her godly claiming was in comparison. Damen stood at the Ares table as money was handed over between them and the Hermes cabin, and he exchanged a glance with Nikandros across the hall. Nik shook his head but Damen had already stepped over the bench and was quickly exiting the pavilion.

Even though he hadn’t wasted much time, Laurent was nowhere in sight. Damen doubted that Laurent had gone back to the cabins or to anywhere in the camp that would remind him of the gods. He glanced over at the lake but he could only make out a couple of dryads attempting to get the last rays of sunshine. The forest was a bad idea, being full of monsters and all, although he wasn’t sure if Laurent was one to heed orders. Yet a sense of knowing directed him towards the beach just beyond the pavilion.

Laurent had shed his sandals at the edge of the sand, a command to himself in an attempt to calm down. Take off your sandals. Don’t kick the sand. He walked to the edge of the water. It lapped his toes and he stepped back. The next wave lasted longer and reached his feet again. Laurent sat with his feet still able to touch the ever encroaching water and picked up a handful of wet sand, hurling it into the ocean. 

“Keep that up and you’ll offend another god.”

Laurent closed his eyes as his fingers dug into the sand. 

“Piss off.”

“You’re getting sand on your tunic.”

“I don’t care,” Laurent seethed.

Damen approached the demigod carefully. He wasn’t too sure about Laurent’s sand throwing range so he sat down a few yards to the right. He wasn’t really expecting Laurent to have such a lithe, taut and muscular body for someone who didn’t know they were a demigod. The silence stretched on as the sun dipped lower to the horizon. Damen was pretty bad with this sort of thing but he felt compelled to try.

“We’ve all been through this...this ‘claiming.’ The gods are neglectful so I’m sure you’re feeling...”

“You have no possible idea what I’m feeling.”

“Were you hoping for a different god?”

“I wasn’t hoping for anything. I don’t feel the need to belong to one of your little personality test circles. Now go back to your den of sweat and toxic masculinity,” Laurent said, a muscle in his jaw working. He was leaning back slightly, face tipped to the sky, arms angled behind him and palms anchored to the ground. It could have been a relaxed position if not for the tense bunching of his shoulders. 

Damen stood, overcome with the typical Ares “fight me” energy. With the stubbornness of a bull he came closer, raring to knock this princess down a peg.

“You don’t get to do this. You can’t invalidate everyone with a sentence.”

Laurent opened his eyes as his face quickly transformed into a look of heavy browed disdain. Good gods, he only wanted to sulk on this beach, not contend with a hard-headed animal.

“I’m not going to sit here and open up to someone I’ve known for less than a day. Especially not some fool who takes everything personally.”

He got to his feet elegantly and strode up to Damen. Damen was having an internal crisis, conflicted in his anger and by the sudden sensations pinging through him. Then his personal bubble popped. Laurent was within inches of him, looking up with his lips pursed in annoyance. Damen gazed at those perfect blue eyes reflecting the surf behind them and then allowed his gaze to slip to those ever so pink lips. He took a constricted breath, attempting to stammer out something coherent, as Laurent unsheathed the sword at Damen’s side and stepped back. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not in my league, “ Laurent smirked, waving the blade at Damen and then pointing with it back up the shore. “Now once again, piss off.” 

This kid, in a fucking dress looking like a god, threatening him with his own sword. 

“You’re right, I don’t know you. I don’t know your story, but I know many others that are probably equally or more unfortunate that yours, princess. Your mom is the goddess of love so show a little compassion, a little empathy.” 

Laurent glared daggers at Damen through narrowed eyes. “Love is a myth. It’s only lust in disguise.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn’t too sure where to end this one! Torn between giving y’all what I had and giving too much explanation in one chapter. And I like to end it dramatically :) More revelations to come in the next chapter, still trying to figure out how much Greek history to drop and how much to just let y’all go look up hehe

Mood: Flares by The Script

 

Damen opened his mouth to reply as a glowing, corpse-like figure staggered over the sand bluff. Laurent followed Damen’s line of sight and immediately raised his sword at the zombie.

“Hey show some respect, that’s the Oracle!” Damen whispered angrily to Laurent, motioning him to lower his sword.

“I have encountered two monsters today and I’m pretty sure THAT fits into the category.”

The Oracle came closer, staring out into the ocean and equidistant from both Laurent and Damen. The corpse opened her mouth and began to speak.

_Go north to visit Love’s own kin,_  
_You shall seek the key to the other side’s win._  
_The tainted child must bow to the fading god,_  
_And redeem the burden of the fraud._

Laurent and Damen’s faces both darkened at different lines. The Oracle turned and proceeded back to camp, her task finished.

“Normally she stays in her attic and only gives prophecies to the leader...I guess that makes us the quest leaders? Did that mean anything to you?” Damen asked, his anger evaporated. Another quest…the thought made him tired already.

Laurent studied the blade in his hand, turning over the Oracle’s words in his head. If it meant what he thought it did, he didn’t want any part of it. Nor did he want to drag anyone else with him to deal with the mess he was so exhausted at ignoring.

“No. I’m going to bed.”

“We need to discuss this! With Chiron and Nik! You can’t just ignore a prophecy or it’ll come back to haunt you!” Damen said, following Laurent.

A gust of wind seemed to agree with this sentiment as Laurent immediately put his hands down at his side to settle the skirt of his chiton.

“I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR RANDOM MARILYN MONROE MOMENTS,” Laurent yelled at the sky. Damen blushed fiercely and looked at the sand.

Laurent stormed off towards the cabins as Nik trotted up to them, a questioning look on his face. Damen shook his head as Nikandros reached out to stop Laurent and beckoned him over to talk on a bench at the mess hall.

“Did you see the Oracle? She just passed right by me on her way to the Big House. Who did she give a prophecy to?”

“Um, yeah, about that. Two very important things just happened. One, I saw the entirety of Laurent’s thigh so I’m having a bit of a moment right now. Oh, and the Oracle just gave us both a prophecy, yeah.”

“Do I need to plunge you in the lake first before we talk business?”

Damen blushed even more furiously as Chiron galloped over.

“I see I’m a little late, if you were perhaps talking about the Oracle?”

“That’s what I showed up for, if Damianos cares to share…?” Nik smirked at his friend.

Damen related the prophecy to the satyr and centaur. He wasn’t sure if the first line grated Laurent the most, since it probably dealt with the love goddess, or one of the others. Whatever it was, it had certainly put a bee in his chiton.

“Ah, I see. I was afraid it would be about that. Especially when you got a quest the moment he showed up.” Chiron gazed off at the lake as Nik and Damen shared inquisitive looks.

“About what?” Damen prompted.

“Laurent has their scent. The scent of those that took out campers a few years ago.”

Damen clenched his teeth and his hands. He remembered them, those boys who had taken a handful of the younger demigods right out of their beds. Nobody knew until morning and by the time a quest had been put together, the traitors had enough time to ambush the questers, killing all but one.

Nik got up instantly but Damen stopped him with a touch. “He’s not here to steal campers.”

“Do you think so? He can charm them with a word and walk out unnoticed. Stop thinking with your dick, Damen.”

“Nikandros, I too agree that he’s not one of them. There’s no sense of mission or bravado about him. Perhaps the Oracle simply means that he knows where we can find the children.” Chiron supplied evenly. “You must find a third person to complete the sacred group number for quests.”

“No he doesn’t, it’ll be me. I’ve got his back and I’ll remind him to use his head,” Nikandros said, clapping Damen on the back. Damen gave him a grateful smile.

“So it is decided. I believe we can decide on more details in the morning. Off to bed.”

While it is customary for humans to get a nice night’s sleep to face the trails of the day before them, demigods are constantly plagued by visions of what is yet to come.

Laurent was at the beginning of one of those visions, hovering in the corner of his uncle’s study. He knew every detail about the place and grimaced at the sight of his uncle at the grand mahogany desk. A boy with wavy brown hair and blue eyes sat in one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, reading a book. The door was opened by a handsome young man with golden hair who marched smartly into the room.

“You requested me, sir.”

“And you kept me waiting, Auguste. I do not tolerate tardiness.” His uncle looked sternly at Auguste, who bowed in reply. “Assemble your team. My griffin failed to return Laurent to us and I fear he may have fallen in with the wrong sort. I may have indulged him too much.”

“You did,” Nicaise said, plodding over with slippered feet. Laurent’s uncle fluffed the boy’s hair with his fingers as Auguste gave another stiff bow.

“Is that all, my lord Himeros?”

“Make sure to finish off anybody he’s traveling with,” his uncle said, turning to grin to the space Laurent’s dream form was occupying.

Laurent woke with a start, pastel blue sheets clenched in his fists. Someone had leant him pajamas but as he slept a chest with his name had appeared, just like the ones for all the other kids in the cabin.

“That’s for your stuff, mom sometimes pops in an outfit or two if you’re lucky,” a younger boy with perfectly dimpled cheeks said. The boys section was separated from the girls by a curtain but Laurent could tell everyone was awake by the clamor relating to campers hogging the mirrors. He traced the ornate, cursive L on the chest before opening it, revealing a hand selected outfit from his mother.

“Is this some stupid sort of apology gift?” Laurent asked no one in particular. “I’m sorry I never was there for you but here’s an outfit for the one time I remembered your existence?” The other boys just shrugged as they dealt with their own makeup or wardrobe decisions. Inside were slim, dark wash blue jeans, grey leather Sperry shoes, a fitted, washed out burgundy tee and a black Ezekiel jacket. “At least it’s not one of those bloody awful camp shirts.”

After he was dressed he started looking for a hairbrush, until he felt a tug on his jacket. One of the younger girls had a fist full of hair ties and a brush.

“Tradesies?” She asked.  
  
“Trade what?” Laurent said as she took his hand and pulled him over to one of the vanities. She sat down in the chair and handed him a pink hair tie. He looked beseechingly at his half brothers and sisters who were trying very hard not to make eye contact. Finally he turned back to the task at hand and carefully parted her hair. He had never done a French braid before but it was almost like he could picture exactly what she wanted and what would look cute. With the image in his mind his fingers were soon tying off the end.

“Oooh yes, thanks so much! Your turn!!” The girl, Bethany, squealed. Once again Laurent looked around for help until he was forcefully shoved into the vanity chair. Bethany immediately got to work with the hairbrush, quite forcefully actually, but Laurent was polite enough not to complain. She gave him a simple braid and picked some strands out to frame his face. “All done!”

“Thanks, hun,” Laurent said, begrudgingly admiring himself in the mirror. He gave her a smile before exiting the cabin.

Kids were still watching him over his claiming yesterday so going to get breakfast was out of the picture. What he really needed to do was talk to some adults because even though he didn’t want to deal with the problem at hand, he was worried after seeing Nicaise last night.

Damen and Nikandros were whispering together as Laurent approached the big house. He debated ignoring them and striding in but he hadn’t been inside before.

“Hey Laurent, do you want to go over the game plan for our quest?” Damen asked, beaming as per usual. Nik was frowning, as per usual.

“No but there’s not much of a choice, is there?”

“Damn right.” Nik mumbled as he followed the other two into the house. Damen led them over to the living room where Chiron was chatting with someone in a horrendous leopard print shirt.

“Good morning everyone. Laurent, I do believe you have not met Mr. D, he’s helping us out for a while.” Chiron said, waving at the boys to sit on one of the numerous couches. Damen mouthed the name Dionysus at Laurent who had a hard time putting the portly man in front of him and a god in the same boat.

“Now Lauren and Muscles, I’m not here to listen to the petty details of your quest. I’m just here because the general prophecy sounded a lot more interesting than the namby pamby monster killing quests that normally occur. Chiron here tells me that Lauren smells like the boys that took some campers a while ago, not like I’ve missed any of ‘em or even remember their names. I do want to know who has a horde of demigods that take other demigods.” Mr. D said before taking a long sip of Diet Coke.

“First of all, it’s Laurent. Secondly, shouldn’t the gods be actively trying to figure this out?”

“Eh, whoever the mastermind is, he’s hard to find. Anyways, that’s what demigods are for, doing quests and stuff.”

Laurent seethed internally but was aware that Dionysus’s powers included making people go insane.

“This ‘mastermind’ is one of your kind. He must be. His name is Himeros.”

Dionysus coughed on a mouthful of Diet Coke and Chiron knit his eyebrows together in concern.

“Umm, who?” Damen asked politely.

“He was one of the Erotes, brother to Eros. He’s the god of desire.” Chiron began.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry kids, I was on business travel. To make matters worse, I played BoTW instead of writing! Y’all were saved when my Switch ran out of power on the plane ride back, forcing me to finish this chapter. Enjoy! Hopefully I was able to give you a good OH SHIT moment...but our naive Damen doesn’t fully realize how Laurent fits in to the scheme.

Mood: Cough Syrup but the Glee version by Darren Criss

“That guy is still around? I thought most of the lesser Erotes faded and Eros picked up the slack,” Mr. D interjected, toying thoughtfully with the tab on his soda can.

Chiron waited patiently for him to finish before continuing. 

“I have mulled over the kidnapping of our male campers and the inability of the gods or any demigod search party to find them. This does have the finesse of a god. Alas, I do recall that Himeros was very fond of a practice preferred by the Cretans. Now we do try to gloss over ancient customs around the campers, different times and all, but still unacceptable in today’s standards.”

“In any standards,” Laurent cut in. Chiron inclined his head at the demigod. Damen looked at the two in confusion, wondering what sort of thing they both seemed to know. 

“Agreed. Adult male aristocrats would kidnap younger noble boys, with permission of their fathers, and take them as lovers. The Cretans validated it with the story of Ganymede, a handsome young mortal who Zeus stole away to be the official cupbearer to the gods. Himeros was shunned for continuing the practice far after the mortals had discarded it and we assumed that he had been lost to time. May we now assume that...it...continues with the demigods that he captures?” 

Laurent’s mouth was a tight, thin line whose corner twitched ever so slightly before nodding his head stiffly. 

At this point, Damen was seeing red. This...god...had absolutely no right. Damen stood up, shaking, overcome by the need to do something, anything, immediately. He stilled when Laurent’s hand rested ever so gently on his forearm. 

“Your anger does nothing.”

“So what, I am simply not allowed to feel? To put all emotion in a box until the problem has been dealt with? That is not how I operate. He took our campers, our Nicaise.”

Damen could suddenly feel Laurent’s nails digging into his skin. 

“Ah yes, the son of Nemesis.” Chiron said, “and Cazimir, son of Hypnos.”

“How shall you deal with this, little eromenos?” Mr. D said, ignoring Damen. 

“Never address me as such,” Laurent said vehemently, striding over to Mr. D and placing a dagger at his throat. It was a pretty knife with a mother of pearl inlaid handle so it must have been from the Aphrodite cabin. 

“You dare threaten a god?” Dionysus rose as Laurent’s dagger turned into a twig. To Damen, Laurent was equally as threatening with the twig.

“That is exactly what I intend to do,” Laurent replied, as Mr. D caught the glint of madness in his eye. 

“Please don’t curse him to a lifetime of insanity,” Chiron hastily added, “we should figure out what their first destination should be. It is understandable that tensions will be high around this subject.”

Laurent and Mr. D moodily settled down, both sulking with their arms crossed. 

“Yeah, who’s north of here that’s Love’s own kin...” Nikandros finally said. His silence up to this point made everyone turn to him.

“Might be Eros. He’s got one of those dating sites now...I wanted him to set me up with a dryad but our personality quizzes didn’t match or something,” Mr. D grunted, shaking his Diet Coke can until it magically refilled. 

“Maybe she swiped left,” Damen said, grinning. Unfortunately no one understood his reference.

“Yes, he should be able to help you with the next clue, or point you to someone who can. I’ll send Psyche an Iris message to confirm that he’s northward while you boys get some supplies,” Chiron said, ending the discussion. 

As the boys and Nik exited the Big House, the satyr turned toward the forest.

“I have to talk to the Council first, they’re not big fans of satyrs going on quests but since this is to get back campers I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Meet you by the stables in a bit then?” Damen asked, receiving a nod from Nikandros in return. Laurent was standing a little ways away, scanning Damen, and rigid as a board.

“We’ll get ‘em back.” Damen smiled broadly. Laurent gave him an incredulous eyebrow raise as Damen beckoned him towards the armory. “Let’s suit up. Himeros’s little army is well prepared.”

“He’s sending them to intercept us,” Laurent added, sharing only that nugget of his dream. 

“Did you see a location?” 

“No.”

“Ah, well, here’s the armory. We should even be able to find something for you.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows at the chiseled son of Ares. “You don’t think we all get trained?”

Damen opened his mouth as if to respond and then promptly closed it. No, he had not. But he should have expected it from the muscles he had seen yesterday. Even the thought of it brought a little color to his cheeks. 

Laurent strode confidently into the armory which was piled high with weapons of all sorts. Damen took a moment to admire the axes on a rack to his left. When he looked up, Laurent was perusing the sword rack with bored indifference. 

“See anything you like?”

“Not really,” Laurent replied. None of them were his style, although the rubies in one scimitar’s hilt caught his eye. Damen was making a bit of a racket sorting through some beat up shields lining one wall. There was a table off to the side with a sword on it and Laurent went over to check it out. A small, silver mirror whose edge was entwined with delicate silver tree limbs and leaves gleamed to the right of the sword. Laurent picked it up, turning it over in his palm, but he couldn’t see his own reflection. Instead he could see Nicaise’s head, bottom lip in full pout mode, not looking directly out of the mirror but rather off in some random direction. Laurent’s breath caught as Nicase’s eyes blinked and he immediately shoved the mirror into his pocket as he heard Damen coming up behind him.

“Hey, nice sword. I haven’t seen this in inventory before.” 

The sword was thin, like a rapier, with a gorgeous golden hilt and a wicked tip. Laurent was initially skeptical (when isn’t he honestly) but as he took the handle and lifted it up, he could tell it was perfectly balanced for him. He made a few quick and graceful sweeps and thrusts and was satisfied with the sword’s performance. 

“This is adequate.” 

Damen foundered for words for a second and licked his lips. “Yeah, seems good. We should find you a sheath.” He was unsuccessful in convincing Laurent to bring a shield but he did sign up for some strategically placed daggers. 

As they left the armory, the boys ran into Erick and his pack of brutes. 

“Hey Damen, I heard the oracle was stupid enough to give you another quest. Return with your honor this time, will you?” Erick said as his cronies snickered. Damen’s left hand clenched into a fist as his right went for his sword. 

“Do I really have to teach you another lesson?” Laurent drawled, stepping in front of Damen with his sword raised.

“Go back to the makeup counter and your whore mother,” Erick rebutted, earning a slap on the back from his comrades. They did back up, however, as Laurent began to circle Erick. How foolish of Erick, Damen thought, as Laurent eyed his prey. 

“Well if we’re reaching for parental insults, I hope you have a bigger sword than the one your father failed to conceive you with.” 

“I have more masculinity in one bicep than you do in your whole body,” Erick raged, drawing forth two hand axes that were strapped to his back.

“You say that like I care about such things,” Laurent smirked, before diving in with his sword. His agility was helpful in avoiding Erick’s swings but those that did meet his sword were powerful. The son of Ares gained ground, pushing Laurent back. Laurent managed to smack Erick’s right hand with the flat side of his sword, causing Erick to drop an axe. Unfortunately Erick immediately drew the sword at his hip while deflecting another slice from the son of Aphrodite.

The combo of sword and axe was obviously not something Erick practiced with. Laurent was now able to sneak in closer and deliver some shallow cuts. Erick grew more winded from the heaviness of his own blows. Finally Laurent smacked the pommel of his sword against Erick’s leather chest piece, sending him stumbling backward until he finally landed on his butt. 

“Damn dude, ousted by an Aphrodite ice princess,” one of Erick’s buddies said. Laurent turned his head, elegantly sweeping his braid over his shoulder.

“I hope some Fury drags you down to Tartarus,” Erick spat. 

“And I hope that you’ll learn some manners, but that will never happen, will it?”

Nikandros trotted up, frowning at the scene. 

“We deal with arguments on the training field, stop setting a bad example for the younger ones. Erick, you just earned yourself extra time in the strawberry fields. Laurent…come with me. Damianos, you too.” 

Damen was absolutely thrilled (and turned on). 

“That was pretty good! Were you purposefully bad at the beginning or were you just leading him on?” 

Laurent rolled his neck and his shoulders before answering. “I haven’t fought many axe wielders so it took a minute to analyze his style.”

“Oh well I could teach you, it’s an easy thing for a sword to get past an axe.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re quite keen to teach me.” 

Damen’s excitement fizzled away to concern. He didn’t understand Lauren’t comment was actually self-deprecative about his abrasive personality. Instead Damen was horrified that Laurent was probably able to pick up on his feelings for him, being a child of Aphrodite. It was quite a feat to shut down the feeling in his pants. 

Nikandros led them back to the stables where a couple of Apollo kids handed them backpacks of food, medicine etc. 

“Damen, you know better. Also Erick is always gunning for a fight. Laurent, I expect you to be a prick.”

“Then I’ll try not to disappoint.” Laurent said.


End file.
